


Dead of Night

by CocoaNoir



Series: Warhammer 40,000: Fire Storm: The Path of Vre'Shi'ur [1]
Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Breach Prime, Gen, Night Lords (40k), Tau Empire (WH40k)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29399046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CocoaNoir/pseuds/CocoaNoir
Summary: An installation on a T'au sept world has been claimed by a Night Lord war band. With bloodshed practically guaranteed, the T'au are forced to act quickly. They send a strike force of Breacher Teams, headed up by a decorated veteran Shas'vre Dy'Aketh Shi'ur Mont'yr.
Series: Warhammer 40,000: Fire Storm: The Path of Vre'Shi'ur [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159697
Kudos: 3





	Dead of Night

****SKETHER UASH'O****

**OPERATION:** M'Yen'Kai

**SEPT:** Dy'Aketh

**OBJECTIVE:** Rout occupying force with minimal damage to occupied structures.

**KNOWN OPPOSITION:** Small Gue'la Kau'ui headed by Gue'ron'sha La'rua

  * **Gue'la Kau'ui:** Loosely organized. Heavily policed by Gue'ron'sha. Completely subservient via intimidation. Will not be reasoned with.

  * **Gue'ron'sha Chapter: "Night Lords"** As of yet unencountered by Shas'ar'tol. Intel has stated that this Chapter defected from Imperium. Combat Doctrine similar to that of Chapter Raven Guard, stealth and ambush tactics. Noted differences include heightened aggression, torture tactics, warfare focused on damaging morale. Apparent dissolution due to conflict with Imperium. Remaining Night Lords rarely coalesce, often making small warbands, wreaking havoc on fringe Imperium worlds. Overall objective is unknown, but they seem to have been uninformed of the existence of this T'au Sept. Likely sought to raid previous Imperial occupation.




**THREATENED ASSETS:** Night Lords have claimed control of Planetary Communications Hub. Currently seek access to Global Communication Systems. Assumed goal is to broadcast torture of Por'hui staff in attempt to demoralize civillian populace. Occupying Gue'la have fortified the tower and installed anti-armor battlements. Overwhelming force could cause unnecessary damage to Comms Hub.

**STRATAGEM:** Putting armor at risk unnecessary. Breach Teams will be the spearhead, with Pathfinders and Sniper Drone teams offering support from afar. Breachers will be air-dropped in atop the Hub, and use attached blueprints to plot out most effective ingresses. Lead Breach Team will have access to the Hub's control systems, allowing for lockdown protocols to contain and direct occupying forces. An AX3 will be airborne for seeker missile passes and pursuit of fleeing forces.

****APPROACHING DROPZONE: PREPARE FOR DEPLOYMENT****

"I know you can understand me, thing." A Marine towers over a slender T'au man, telltale features of a member of the Water caste. On his knees, the poor creature hardly even comes up to the top of the Marine's knee plate. The Marine is obviously the man in charge, adorned in chromed skulls and a wings. A patch of flesh is stretched over his right pauldron, and on the same arm, he flutters the fingers of a deadly power claw. "My men told me of your attempts to reason with them. You speak better Gothic than some of _them_ do."

The Por'vre keeps his eyes locked to the floor in stone silence. He finds them unintentionally drawn to the mural of blood leftover from the Gue'la he'd tried to talk to. The only one that hadn't struck him for opening his mouth. The attempts to clean up his remains had been rather lacking. He honestly couldn't tell if the mess had been left intentionally or not. Didn't make his stomach turn any less.

"You seem distracted." More silence. "No, that's not it. Are you bored?" The Marine pauses again, feigning conversation. "Of course, of course, let me give you something to watch." The Captain strides across the room and peruses the rest of his hostages. Por'vre clenches his jaw. He can't react. It will only goad the animal on. Then he hears the shriek.

Of all the people in the room, why her? The dear girl had barely started working at the tower before it had come under siege. Tears roll down her face as she's dragged across the room, then unceremoniously flopped onto a console in the center of the room. Por'vre pulls his eyes away from her, but it's too late. The beast caught him looking.

"I knew you'd appreciate a show. Where do you think I should start?" The air hangs heavy as he waits for a response. "You're right, let's get a look at what we're working with first." With a deft stroke, he cuts away her clothes, effortlessly wrestling her as she struggles and screams. He punctuates the task by pinning the woman by her neck, and brings a single blade of his claw to his lips. "Sshhhh... Save your screams for when I get started." He turns back to Por'vre. "Well, now that you can see the whole canvas, what do you think?"

Por'vre closes his eyes. If he breaks, it will change nothing. They'll be killed whether they comply or not. He just has to hold on. Help has to be coming. It has to.

He hears the Captain growl. "Get him over here." Cold metal wraps around the back of Por'vre's neck. With one hand, another Marine walks him over to the console. He's slammed into the side of it, knocking the wind out of him. "Open your eyes or I go get another one. I'm more than capable of gutting two people at once."

Por'vre relents. His eyes open, meet the girl's, and at last, he speaks. <Be strong, child. This world is depending on it.>

The girl's breathing slows, and the fear leaves her eyes, if only a little. The Captain sighs. "Comfort. Of course." In a single movement, he rends the girl from the shoulders down. He tosses the flayed corpse over his shoulder, then points to another of his Marines. " _Get me another one!_ And _you,_ " he hangs a bloodied claw inches from Por'vre's face. "I hear any more Thingspeak out of you, I will make _damn_ sure they regret it. _This_ is between _us._ "

\---------

<Damnit.> The gruesome scene in the Comms Control room plays out on a small screen in the hands of a Fire Warrior. Her commander watches on over her shoulder, pacing back and forth. <Fire Teams; Status. Are you in position?>

<Negative, Shas'vre. We're close, but we'll still need time to prepare for breach.>

<We've arrived at breach point, but still need prep.>

<12 rai'kan from breach point, excluding prep>

<Air support, status?>

<30 rai'kan out. Insufficient range to fire on primary target.>

< _Damnit..._ We need _more time..._ > The shas'vre approaches the shas'ui holding the security feed.

<Why doesn't that Por'fann just tell them that his codes won't work anymore? Command locked the system down as soon as they became aware of their presence. He has nothing to offer them.> A shas'la on the Breach Prime Team looks to his comrades. Anything to distract himself from the grotesque display on camera.

<Those codes are the only thing keeping any of the people in that room alive.> All eyes fall on the shas'vre. <With nothing to offer, they'd all be skinned and strung up by now, with those savages trying to find another way into the system. He's not just buying us time, he's buying _them_ time. A price they shouldn't have to pay. We need to give them more time. Sral,> He looks from the screen to the operator. <How much control do you have over the Hub?>

<I have access to all camera feeds, door locks, I can alter passcodes->

<What about the PA System?>

\--------

"Before we begin," The Captain manhandles the next hostage into position, "I'll give you one more opportunity to open a broadcast. You're right there in front of a console, just do what you have to do." Por'vre has returned to silence, eyes fixed downward.

The Captain shakes his head. "You're committed to your duty." Por'vre looks up, caught off guard. The Night Lord looks just as shocked as he is. "Oh," he nods to himself, "You took that as a compliment. Duty is worthless. Even less so if you can't actually fight to uphold it. This is what your duty has done for you," he takes his victim's ankle in hand. The sounds of crackling bone and bellowing agony fill the room. Blood sputters across the table as the Por'la's ankle pops under the Astartes' iron grip. The Marine pulls his hand away to reveal the mass of mangled flesh and crushed bone.

"You have about four and a half minutes until I ask again. Until then," the Captain now works on the Por'la's hand, flaying off pieces of skin with his claw. He shows dexterous care, using his immense strength to hold the T'au's arm incredibly still. He works from fingertip to fingertip, and as the flesh falls away, he ensures there's always some nerves left when he removes the digit, before moving on to the next. The young man writhes fruitlessly, twisting and flailing in what looks like an effort to take his own arm off to be free of the pain.

A new sound mixes in with the screams. <...r me? Transmission check.> The Night Lord releases his victim, turning to find the source of this voice. "<Ah, good, we're transmitting. This is Shas'vre Dy'Aketh Shi'ur Mont'yr. Help is on the way, stay strong. Try telling them we're locking down the building to bombard it from orbit to buy you time.> And enemies, fuk'off'die. Catch spayss'fire." And as quickly as it started, the transmission ends.

"Was that _Gothic_ at the end there?" The Captain's question goes unanswered, as the doors to the room seal shut, panels on their sides going red.

"Thank Goodness," Por'vre is on his feet, looking to the heavens with reverie. <Everyone, play along, help is on the way, the longer we leave them confused, the less time they have to torment us.>

The Por'la on the table rolls onto the floor, his true relief playing into the wild narrative. <Blessed Shas'ar'tol, come to free us from this dreadful _nightmare!_ > The others join in celebrating to the horror of the humans and Astartes in the room.

"What's he saying? Open the doors! _'Space fire,'_ better not mean what I think it does."

" **Burn, you disgusting savages! Peace is at hand!** " The bloodied T'au laughs like a madman.

The laughter is quickly ended by a vicious backhand from the Night Lord. "What madworld have we gotten ourselves into? **Doors, now!** "

"No luck! The doors are heavily fortified!"

"It would seem our deaths are no longer in your hands, Gue'ron'sha. A pity." Por'vre's dig at the Astartes quickly met with regret when he saw the wild fury in the Captain's eyes.

" _You'll die how I_ _**say**_ _you die."_ And with that he drew his bolt pistol, spun to the bay window on the far side of the room, putting a bolt in every corner of it.

< **Shit!** > Shas'vre looks out to the horizon, <Kor'ui, spare first salvo, glass is handled, circle the tower and be prepared for fleeing vessels! Stay above clouds! Pathfinders, get me eyes on possible egress! Breach teams, you are clear to engage! All teams, clear to engage!> He turns to his squad. <Breach Prime, rappel! Ui'Lunsu, swing wide and be ready to catch someone!> And with that, Breach Prime leapt from the roof into the night below.

"Everyone grab some! All of them are going out the window!" The Captain takes hold of Por'vre by the neck and wheels around.

He freezes. Then he flings the T'au and draws his pistol, but it's too late. A brilliant flash and deafening pop flood the room. Breach Prime soars into the room at the bottom of their pendulum swing, targets marked. The Astartes move reflexively, diving blindly away from the window. It's not enough. Pulse blasters flash, wreathing the Night Lords in a haunting glow. And an instant later, plasma shots flood the room, magnetized to their bounding targets.

All but one are caught in a burst of blue death. The force Captain had taken a blind swipe at the floor in front of him, forcing Shas'vre to roll aside and save his shot. The Night Lord capitalizes. Feeling the wind, he leaps for the window, keeping his claw to the floor to catch him on the way out. Vision returns to him in his descent, and he uses his claw to destroy a window to make a way back into the building.

Vre'Shi'ur glares after him. <Be advised, enemy force commander is still active, exercise caution.> He turns to the operator. <Do you have eyes on him?>

<Negative. Too much happening at once to filter him out of the rest of the hostiles. Our best bet might just be to head for the bottom floor and hope to beat him there.>

<Breach Prime, let's _move!_ >

\--------

_"Hawk! Spin up now! I want to be ready to go as soon as I'm out there!"_ The Night Lord Captain streaks through the halls, making quick work of the doors with his claw and sheer rage. "What a colossal _clusterfuck._ " He stops short of the next corner. Footfalls make their way up the hallway, slowing with the same caution for corners. The Marine leaps, spring-boarding off of the wall opposite him and flying into the T'au around the bend. He rends them to pieces, and the closest they get is a singe on his cape. He can waste no time. He's off down the halls again.

\--------

<Breach 7, SitRep!> Vre'Shi'ur comes up the rear of the Breach Team stacked up on two sides of a corridor.

<Multi-laser at the far end of the hall! We don't have the range to take it out!>

<Provide suppressing fire! You three, with me!> Plasma bursts splash off of the walls down the hall, and the humans hunker down. Shas'vre and half his team roll across the hall in the moments of relief.

<We'll cut through these rooms, and catch them in overlapping fire. Sit tight, and keep them distracted. Sral!> The rooms unlock, and both halves of Breach Prime clear corners and enter.

<Sral, how dug in are they?>

<Sending visual.> A display in Vre'Shi'ur's helmet alights, and he sees the turret barely set into the crossroads. <They put it on this end to better anticipate attacks from the rear.>

<That makes it easier for us to get a Pulse Grenade on it. Ready up. Breach 7, move up on us.> The Shas'la crouched by the door loads a small disc into a slot at the end of her gun with a click.

The doors fly open, and the grenade pings off the wall into the gun nest. A crackle of electricity climbs the walls, and the multi-laser stalls, dead. The combined Breach Teams make quick work of the personnel camped behind it.

They move along the outside wall, and Ui'Lunsu stops. <Shi'ur! There!.>

Out the window, they can see a Terran ship lighting up, its engines roaring to life. Then Vre'Shi'ur sees him. The Force Captain breaks across the field, and Vre'Shi'ur acts without thinking. He shatters the window with a shot, and leaps out the side, his pack flaring up to launch him forward.

The Captain hears the rush of burning jets behind him and brings his cape up to his head before the flash of the Pulse Blaster. He leaps as the plasma follows, and it reduces the rest of his cape to fire and ash. He swings for the gliding Shas'vre, and their dance begins. Vre'Shi'ur cuts power to his pack, dropping to avoid the claw, and rolls under the Night Lord. He fires a shot, then another, but his foe is already clear. Vre'Shi'ur barely dodges another swipe, and the blaster is knocked from his hands, pinned under the Captain's claw. The Captain readies to follow through, but whips backwards, barely clearing the pistol pulse aimed for his eye. Vre'Shi'ur sends him back with a few more shots, buying time to kick the pulse blaster back into his hands. The Night Lord responds, drawing his own pistol. Vre'Shi'ur steadies the blaster on his pistol arm, and fires. Plasma slams into the Force Captain's pistol arm, knocking his shot wide. The bolt cracks off of Vre'Shi'ur's pauldron, pushing the Breacher off his feet. He rolls backwards, trying to right himself to his enemy. He looks up just in time to see the Night Lord rushing towards him, claw stretched forward. A volley of blasts rocks the Stormhawk behind them, sending them both tumbling in the nick of time. The Razorshark screams overhead as the two leaders gather themselves. Vre'Shi'ur finds himself almost directly beneath a standing Force Captain, readying the killing blow. Plasma bursts rip over Vre'Shi'ur's head, immolating the Night Lord.

Vre'Shi'ur takes a few moments to get his bearings. Shaking away the shell shock, he rises to his feet. The Breach Teams make their way up to him as he surveys his surroundings. He looks to the gathered Shas'ui of each team. <Losses?>

<Breach 4 isn't responding. Breach 10 and 6 have lost three and two Shas'la, respectively. Outside that, two more injuries, non-lethal.>

A sputtering gasp draws all attention to the Night Lord. He lives, barely. Molten armor bites into roasted flesh in a gruesome scene. But what draws Vre'Shi'ur's eye is the ferocious gaze of the Force Captain, defiant to the end.

"We should thank you." The Marine's eyes go wide, hearing the garbled voice from the PA speak fluent Gothic. "Your stunt of trying to throw our people from the window gave our support time to move on your vessel. If you'd left the window, we would've had to wait for the first pass. Instead, he was able to circle and be ready for your escape."

Vre'Shi'ur picks up his blaster. "Now, I'm sure if our fates were switched, you would leave me to die in agony. But unlike you, we are bound by honor. _Duty._ " The Night Lord grimaces. "To leave you to suffer would be a disservice to our nature." He steadies the blaster at the Captain's face. _"We're not savages like you."_

The shot rings out, echoing into the trees. Silence takes the night.


End file.
